My response to Sweeping Motions: What’s messier right now — your bedroom or you computer’s desktop (or your favorite device’s home screen)? Tell us how and why it got to that state.

As someone who works from home, and someone who has a hard time hiding true feelings and emotions, I feel as though the state of the two locations in question are reflective of my recent “battles,” if you will.

I have been a little depressed lately.

My bedroom isn’t a mess, but definitely could be neater. Because of my allergies to lady Lily’s hay, I have been vacuuming nearly daily, and cleaning her entire cage every other or every three days. The floor is clean more often than not.

However, there’s still the bike that has fallen into disrepair propped against the wall, supporting a half-completed painting and a sweater that has been desperately holding on to the old stain of pen ink. Both items have used the bike as a support for months now.

My soul tells me to finish the painting. Logic tells me it is time to dispose of the sweater. I can’t even name the part of me that has been telling me that maybe I will pick up Oxyclean one day and try one last time to clean the thin, already out-of-season garment.

My bed is made daily. Throw pillows arranged. Chenille throw folded. Pajamas placed behind the lead pillow.

Things are neat, but can be cleaner, I feel. Generally, this is my current view on my life: Things are well enough, but I know and I want it to be more.

Lately I have grown restless and have been noticing that I long for, and believe that I deserve more than many things for which it seems I have settled. This leads me to my desk. Again, it is neat enough, with papers, notebooks, and pads of paper in their place at the end of each day. However, being my desk doesn’t have drawers, some folders are beginning to sag with the weight of my daily displeasure. Dust gathers faster, it seems. And the rings of water stains on the black-tinted glass desktop drive me mad. I used to clean more often. The rings were removed on a weekly basis, but now I can’t tell you the last time my desk saw the lovely mist of Windex.

There are a few cute decorations that keep getting pushed out of place by the hourly movement of glasses and mugs around the desk. A small ornate frame with an illustration of Charlie Chaplin shuffles backward toward my early-90s radio until I bring it back periodically. Nearly immediately, a glass of water or orange juice, cup of tea or coffee, or plate of cheese shuffles it out of position again. Perhaps, I take Charlie for granted.

Lately, my creativity has been a little stifled. Perhaps it’s because of this depressed state in conjunction with the stupid fact that all of my writing or drawing is done in, at, or around these two locations. Except, ironically this piece. I am sitting in a coffee shop on Steinway Street, blocks from the places that only a handful have seen, and no one notices the realness of the reflection it holds for me.

When I fall into a depression, my world goes to shambles. Only the part of my world where I control the audience and viewers. Dealing with depression is hard, and I’ve never been one to handle medication well, so I choose to focus inward and make it only my burden to overcome. I sulk and sleep, then I write, draw, and try my best to put it back together. One of the first steps I usually take to get past a slump is to clean up.

Lately, there have been great efforts to keep things in functioning order. The intent is there, and progress is being made, but there are major steps that still need to be taken to get that life I desire. Maybe I should start by removing the water stain rings from yesterday’s cold glass of water.